


Firefly Skin

by LittlePlasticMonster (Horribibble)



Category: teen wolf - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Gen, Hallucinations, Nogitsune Claudia, Nogitsune Stiles, Possessed Stiles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-04
Updated: 2014-02-04
Packaged: 2018-01-11 03:36:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1168199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Horribibble/pseuds/LittlePlasticMonster
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The ones we love never leave us. They sink under our skin and whisper designs, patterns, theories of doors and death threats. They crush fireflies in our palms. </p>
<p>Mother wants to play Hide and Seek.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Firefly Skin

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by [this](http://stupidstagram.tumblr.com/post/75556276112) post on tumblr.
> 
> Now with a proper gif set : [[x]](http://littleplasticmonster.tumblr.com/post/75768172275/firefly-skin-the-ones-we-love-never-leave-us)

 

There’s a low hum in his head, and he feels imbalanced, but not as if he’s about to fall. Everything is just warm enough. Everything smells like gardenias and citrus, the way their back garden used to smell when it had something in it _other_ than weeds.

He is standing alone in a very cold room, but he is not cold.

He is staring ahead, at the doors.

He is staring ahead, at a gray-dark mask, carved in a vicious snarl, but he knows, at the same time, that he is staring at Nothing.

Nothing takes a step closer, and he feels it in his chest. Feels it on the raised hairs on his arms, the feeling of being caught out at Hide and Seek.

He is not even slightly frightened, because this is his game.

She will let him hide again.

She always does.

_Good boy._ She coos, just the way she always did.

He is imbalanced. He is rocking, in her arms, in his skin.

He is _being_ rocked.

_It’s right there, baby. Can you catch it?_

He reaches out.

_Look how it glows. See how pretty?_

He reaches out his hand, feels the cool shift of the fabric.

Nothing is waiting. Nothing is curious.

_Now crush it._

The light comes in a flash, a sudden rush—the child-like elation at slaughtering an unsuspecting pest. He has ripped the wings off of the insignificant, the incorporeal.

She is laughing again, like she did before the treatments, before the sedation, before the needle in their arm.

His lips quirk at the corners.

_Good boy._

 

 

Scott comes in to ask him if he’s all right.

He is very worried, because Stiles is very weak, very tired, very prone to seeing and hearing and believing things that Scott does not believe are there.

But he’s always been smarter than Scott.

He tells him he’s just fine. He smiles, and she smiles. They are smiling.

Three fireflies writhe and die on the cold tile floor. 

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not even sorry.


End file.
